Motivation
by xXZydrateAddictXx
Summary: Frank has had enought of all the teenage girls that only listen to their music for Gerard. It's not about the music anymore. Will Frank finally quit the band? A Frarard Fanfiction.


So... I wrote this fanfiction for a friend because she was mad at me, and she said that the only way to make it up to her would be to write her a Frarard fic. My Chemical Romance, I sincerely appologize for this. I have issues with writing fanfictions about real people, but hopefully MCR will forgive me. Chronoeros this better make you happy.

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><p><strong>Motivation<strong>

Frank's head throbbed, teeth clenched. His fingers were moving without his permission. They already knew where to go. He'd done this countless times. Up and down… over and over. The adrenaline was amazing. He craved it every night. The stage was where he belonged.

Sweat dripped down the nape of his neck and his strong, careful arms. He never lost that passion, that need for the screams, for the music. It was what he lived for. That's the way it always was, and the way it always would be. Gerard on the other hand… was slipping.

Or so it appeared. He'd lost his touch. There was some kind of an edge to him now. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his motives had changed. It wasn't about the music anymore. The money? What money? No. It couldn't possibly be that either. Frank studied the taller, redheaded figure. Gerard stood there, moving about the stage, screaming into the mic like he does. He seemed to be completely involved in the crowd. It was almost as if the people were the very thing that carried him. That kept him going. It pissed Frank off.

It was almost like the fans were ruining them and making them at the same time. The thought of that made Frank sick to his stomach. It wasn't even about Gerard's fucked up priorities, It was about what they were screaming at him.

"GERARD YOU ARE SO FUCKING HOT!"

A teenage girl sitting in the front row screamed at the top of her lungs. She had to be no older than thirteen years old. Frank grimaced and stared at his guitar. So that was it. Nobody even listens to our music anymore. It's all about Gerard now. Whatever, he needed to concentrate. Thinking about this was totally harshing his music boner. Focus. FOCUS.

Db-A-F#-Ab-Db-A….

Frank played every chord with planned precision. The Sharpest Lives was the final encore song, and then he could finally go back to the bus and sleep this off. Why was this even getting under his skin? The fans were always like that, even before. What was this really about? Frank strummed the final chord of the song, and the concert was over.

Frank stumbled backstage, threw his guitar down and ran to the nearest restroom. Frank cupped his hands under the sink faucet and splashed his face with the refreshing liquid. He just needed to chill out and calm the fuck down. Where was all this aggression coming from? Frank gripped both sides of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. Black tufts of hair stuck to his face with sweat and black eyeliner sliding off his cheekbones. "I can't let him see me like this." Frank accidentally said out loud. He wiped his face and the back of his neck with a paper towel, and left. Frank made his way back down the long corridor to the lounge and lit a cigarette. He opened the door and…. Fuck. "FRANKIE!" Gerard said with a huge smile, tackling the guitarist, forcing him to the ground. "GET THE FUCK OFF!" So much for keeping it chill. Frank shoved him off, slapping him in the process. Gerard rolled over him, landing on the tile. Gerard looked up at him from the floor with his eyes full of concern and anger. Realizing what he had just done, Frank looked at the other faces of his band mates. The people he'd worked so hard with for so long. They sat there, mouths hanging open. Frank dropped his cigarette, stormed out of the room and took off down the hall.

They had never been to this venue before. He had no idea where the fuck he was going, but he really didn't care at this point. Fuck. That was so stupid. What was wrong with him? Frank hit a dead end and stopped running. He brought his fist to the wall in frustration and managed to drive a hole in it. Blood dripped off his hand. "What the fuck was that back there?"

It was Gerard. Of course. Frank didn't turn around; neither did he remove his fist from inside the wall. He just stood there. Not knowing how to move, or what to say. In fact he forgot how to speak altogether. Gerard stood there with squinted eyes, waiting for a response.

The two men just stood there for what felt like an eternity. Frank licked his lips, closed his eyes, and pulled his thoughts out of his ass, up to the surface. "I think I should quit." Frank licked his lips in anticipation. He said it. There was no taking it back. "What are you talking about?" "I can't stay here anymore." Frank opened his eyes and shut them tight again. Biting himself with his words. Gerard felt the bite and it stung. "Dude, What's this really about?" Still confused, Gerard put his hand on the guitarist's shoulder. Frank shrugged it off and turned around. Gerard's angry, green eyes caught him off guard. He looked away. "I'm not taking your shit anymore man. I'm done." Gerard was really irritated now. He grabbed Frank by the shoulders and forced their eyes to meet. He was yelling now. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT FRANKIE." Gerard said, shaking him as if it would shed more light on the situation. Frank stared at him. Right in the face this time. "I. CAN'T. DEAL. WITH. YOU. You're a fucking diva. I don't want this anymore." Frank started to walk in the opposite direction, but Gerard caught his wrist. "We started this together Frank. Why would you walk out now? We worked for this." "No, we didn't work for this. This was not what we worked for. I worked to be famous because people believed in my music. Not because a bunch of teenage girls obsess over the ridiculously attractive vocalist. I'll sell my own music somewhere else. Thanks." Frank shook Gerard's hand off his wrist and walked back to the lounge behind Gerard. Gerard smiled to himself "So… you think I'm attractive?" He said with a smirk, still staring at the wall. Frank stopped with his back to the front man. Shit. What do you even say to that? Frank's face matched Gerard's Candy apple hair. Gerard turned around and approached his friend. Wrapping his arms around him from the back, and running his hands along the front of his chest.

"Don't worry Frankie. You'll always be my favorite fangirl."


End file.
